


Any Other Way

by MissPixyStick



Category: Seeking a Friend for the End of the World - Fandom, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Fusion, End of the World, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Younger Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-11 21:12:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7070461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissPixyStick/pseuds/MissPixyStick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world is ending, but lets not focus on that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This Just In

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the movie, and while you don't need to watch it I urge you too. It's such an original concept and it melts your heart when you really get down to it. I will be putting my own spin on to it, more fun that way. The chapters will get longer as they go.  
> I just really hope you all enjoy it. It's a brilliant movie and adding Sherlock just makes it better.

**“The latest report does confirm that it was a fire that erupted the external tank of the ship exactly 98 seconds after it entered the asteroid field.”**

_'Well that was unexpected.'_ The thought surprises him for some reason, why would he have expected anything different to happen? Just because he had hoped doesn’t mean shit these days.

**“No one is sure what caused the fire which led to the massive explosion killing all 12 crew members and scientists aboard that Space Shuttle Deliverance, taking with them our last and only hope.”**

He thinks he should be terrified; he thinks he should be praying to God. Asking for him to save them all, send down a miracle that will ensure everyone’s survival. Instead he’s wondering if he left a big enough tip, end of days or not he still doesn’t want to stiff someone.

**“Once again, if you’re just tuning in, the CSA Space Shuttle Deliverance has been Destroyed. The finally mission to save mankind has failed.”**

He’s not entire sure mankind had done anything to warrant the saving, but that wasn’t for him to decide. He was a bit bias on the subject, war does that to you. It makes you come face to face with the worst of mankind.

**“The 70-mile-wide asteroid known commonly as “Matilda” is set to collide with Earth in exactly three weeks’ time, and we’ll be bringing you up-to-the-minute coverage of our countdown to the end of days, along with your classic rock favorites.”**

He wants to voice his opinion on the chosen name, but when he turns to talk to women he had recently taking out she’s already leaving. Car door thrown up, her sprinting across the park they had pulled over at to listen to the news. He watches her run as The Beach Boys begin to fill the silence around him.

“That seems about right.” He looks ahead again, he doesn't bother to turn on the car. Where does he have to be? The world is ending and he has work in the morning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The days are dwindling,a strange man wants to sleep on his fire escape and John doesn't exactly know what to do with himself.

:21 Days Later:

He won’t say the world goes to shit instantly, in fact the world never really does. It seems people have just decided to live how they want. Giving up jobs, relationships, morals, all in the pursuit of making their finally days’ count.

He wishes he could be like them, wishes he could say fuck it and leave this life behind. Welcome death with a smile on his face because he knows that he spent his last moments fulfilling his every dream. He doesn’t.

Instead he waits in traffic, listening to the honks and swears around him. He drives parallel to a fence littered with print outs.

“Fuck a Virgin”

“Hire an Assassin”

“Seeking a Friend for the End of the World”

Little slips of paper with phones numbers have been ripped away, carried off by someone desperate enough to seek any comfort they can acquire.

~

He considers skipping the gym today, does he really need to work out muscles that won’t matter in a few weeks’ time?

He goes anyway, it’s empty.

Treadmills open, maybe just a walk today.

The television above him is set to the news, not surprising, all of them are. Eyes constantly watching for any change that might occur. Foolish really.

The front door opens, the chiming from the bell rings through his ears, piercing it. It well built man walks in, a grunt in acknowledgement it made in his direction before the guy is heading to the weights behind him.  

The news anchor, who he never bothered to learn the name on is droning on above him.

**“They say all damage to the tower has rendered all cellular telephones useless.”**

That’s just as well, he thinks, no one called him anyway. Never made any plans with anyone that would need a call to get a location, never needed text to get an address, nothing ever happens to him.

**“No word yet on how long before water and power will be shut off all together.”**

That might cause some problems in the future, no showers? Fine, he can live without those. But if he has to see the end of the world without a cup of tea in his hand then he might have to run his car off a bridge.

**“And be sure to stay tuned at 9:00 p.m. for the End of the World Awareness Concert.”**

Awareness Concert? Who the fuck decided they needed to raise awareness for this issue? Were there people out there that needed to be aware of this? Christ.

More grunts came from behind him and with a quick look over his shoulder he saw muscle man start his work out, eyes met briefly in the mirrors that ran along the back wall. He turned forward again, turned up the speed on his machine, run away.

~

They are calling it a ‘human migration’, it continues to sweep the world. Humans moving from city or state or country or continent. Restless they are, barely any content to just ride out this wave in or on the land they once called home.

That’s why the woman had run from his car, he thinks they were married. No, they were, but it hardly matters now. She left him to face oblivion on his own and that’s perfectly fine.

Cars horns surround him; people yell at him for trying to get through, a couple of kids walk in front of his car. He going to be late for work.

~

His assigned spot in still open, the lot is basically deserted.  Fewer than 6 people have shown up to the office today, the waiting room is packed.  Sarah franticly waves her hand to call him over, he notices shock laced in her eyes when he approaches.

“John.” She breath leaves in her a sigh. The relief is so strong in that one word that it nearly knocks him over.

“Sarah, this is unexpected,” he says as he gestures around the room.

“It is that,” she bites her lower lip, nervous, “they all want something. Something to take away the fear and still the panic that they all say they have.”

John raises an eyebrow at her. That’s it? They want something to calm their nerves? He can understand that. Any normal person would want something to take the edge off. Though if it where him he might have gone the illegal route. Meth seems like a viable option.

“Well I’ll see what I can do.” He takes the first file, reads off the name and shows the patient to an exam room.  They talk for less than five minutes before he hands them a few samples of Xanax, along with a prescription for the same. This might be a bit not good, but what does he care. It’s been 21 days since the world lost all hope and people don’t need to face the end afraid.

He calls in his next patient.

~

The day had been a long one, lost his lunch after he had to deal with 4 screaming kids.

When he parks his car on the street in front of his apartment he imagines what would happen if he threw himself off the building. Would there be a lot of blood? Would his entire skull cave in? What kind of sound would his body make when it hit the pavement below?

For some reason this morbid train of thought brings a smile to his face. Least he knows he’s till as fucked up as he’s always been.

The entryway is quiet, the rooms that hang around it are not. TVs blasting, kids shouting, doors slamming. He needs to check his mail.

Empty.

Above another door opens and hits the wall hard enough to shake the place around it. He watches as a tall, curly haired man runs down the steps. Violin case clutched in his hands as he flees.

“That’s right fuck off!” Another male shouts from the doorway before slamming the door shut.

It’s good to be home.

When he enters his flat he can hear the vacuum going.

“Hello?” He calls out, a name on the tip of his tongue almost breaks free but he bites it before it can become a formed word.

He places his bag on the kitchen table and makes for the living room. An older woman is wrapping up the vacuum cord, her knees crack loudly when she stands from her crouch.

“Mrs. Hudson.” The older woman jumps a bit, must not have heard him come in. She lifts her head until her eyes meet his.

“Mr. Watson you gave me a scare” she says smiling softly at him clearly not a hint of worried about being found in his flat while he was out. Why should she be? She does it all the time and sometimes when she sneaks in it’s to drop off something sweet for him to nibble on.

“Mrs. Hudson what are you doing here? Don’t you have anything else you could be doing besides cleaning my flat?”

“Well I noticed it was getting a bit dusty so decided to give it a bit of tiding up.” He shakes his head fondly at her.

“Why are you here? Why aren’t you with your sister? Shouldn’t you be spending time with your family and not here cleaning some poor slobs place?”

“And leave this mess? What do you take me for?”

He throws his hands up in surrender, there’s no winning against that tone. If she wants to clean then let her clean.

“Besides,” she starts to say as she wheels the vacuum towards his door,” I’m going to see my sister in a day or two. Don’t worry about me dear.” With that she leaves with no more than a click of the lock coming back together.

He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, there’s a slight headache coming in behind his eyes. A hefty sigh leaves him when he can come back to himself. The light from a lamp on the end table seems a bit too bright and he can’t remember if it was one when he got home or if Mrs. Hudson turned it on before she left.

There’s steps on the stairs outside his door, a squeak of door hinges meets them. It appears tall and curly might have come back. The door is closed and it is quiet for all of 60 seconds before the shouting starts anew. He can’t quite make out what’s being said but he doesn’t really care to anymore.

He could use a good cuppa.

With the kettle coming to a boil he slips back into the living room to switch on the small TV, the neighbors have finally quieted for the moment and the silence feels a bit stifling.

_“Well, it’s not just the US suffering from the shutdown of the postal service. It would seem the same can be said for the royal mail.”_

That would explain why there weren’t stacks of bills hanging about his place. The TV was left running as he made his way towards the bathroom. For a short moment he stared at himself, he didn’t recognize his reflection. He reached out and opened the medicine cabinet.

Few things scattered upon the tiny shelves, a life that was once enough for the two people that occupied this flat. Now the pink razors and lonely tampon were just reminding him that he was on his own this time. That wasn’t a new concept to him.

Next to said tampon was an orange bottle, an old prescription for a cough that had settled in a pair of lungs for 5 weeks before finally giving in and getting the help it needed. That set of lung wasn’t the only thing left scarred by the end.

When he read the label he sees it’s the generic brand but it has codeine and that will help him tonight. Untwisting the cap, he doesn’t think about what he’s doing as he drinks deep from it.

_“Commercial airlines have discontinued altogether today.”_

“Poor bastards.”

He hears the kettle whistle as he exits the bathroom, medicine bottle still clutched in his hand.  The tea is made absentmindedly, a splash of milk and codeine tops off the steaming beverage.

~

He spares the life of a spider when he is getting ready for bed. What’s the point of ending its life when they are both in the same boat?

He wakes up covered in bites.

~

A jumper lands on his car when he pulls into work.

He quits 10 minutes later, car and dead man left were they sat.

:14 days later:

It’s a nice house he supposes, first time ever seeing it so his opinion on it hasn’t fully formed. The doorbell is a bit loud, though when he really thinks about it it might be the fact that the entire street is quiet. Mostly abandoned.

He presses the button again and waits and waits and waits and when he is about to turn around and go home the door finally opens. His sister-in-law is there gasping at him, arms open wide as if to grab him in an embrace. Hands grasping shoulders is what he gets. Hugs still aren’t the Watson way, no matter what the countdown says.

“You’re early John,” she chides gently as she steps into his space and takes his face into her hands. “Why are you always so early?”

“Someone has to be.” He shrugs one shoulder.

“Harry mentioned what happened with Lottie.”

“Did she?”

“Indeed. I have to say I’m surprised she didn’t leave you sooner.” She’s backing up while opening the door wider for him to enter.

“Yeah, I am to.”

He wishes it was a lie. He wishes more than anything that the truth wasn’t pouring from his mouth when he talks about his…Ex-wife? Is she even that? He doesn’t see the point in tracking her down to sign papers. There is nothing to do for it. She left him when they had found out fires had burned 12 people, the earths last hope they claimed.

“Well come on. Harrys in the kitchen getting trashed tonight, totally pissed.”

She can do what she wants, there’s no stopping her now. Clara is allowing this to happen and it’s their home so who is John to fight it.

“Johnny!” she shouts as he rounds the corner.

“Hi Harry.”

“Glad you could make it.” She’s not, but this may the last chance John has to see her so he’ll take what he can get.

“Ta.” Clara is moving around Harry to get to the cutting board on the counter top behind her.

“You lonely?” He hadn’t expected that question; she was usually more subtly about this sort of thing.

“Not particularly.”

“You’re lying.”

“I thought we could introduce John to Sally,” Clara jumps in as she rearranges carrots on a platter.

“Sally?”

“The one that works for the police?”

“Yup.”

“Why? She’s a bitch.”

“She isn’t, she’s just a bit of a wh- “

“Would you stop it? John doesn’t want to be set up with your cunt friends.” For a moment Clara looks offended, the grip of the knife she is holding tightens just a bit. Harry is completely oblivious to the harden stare she is receiving, a drift in a sea of gin and cocktail onions.

“He needs someone.” This is hissed through gritted teeth. She looks like she’s grinding them so hard they could crack at any second.

“Why? Why does he need someone? So he doesn’t have to face the end alone? What the fuck does it matter at this point? What will being with someone do for him now? He’s dying regardless of who he is with!” Harry turns then, eyes cold, chest rising and falling in a rapid succession. “We all are!”

Clara looks stunned for a moment, like she can’t believe this is really happening. John almost finds it funny. He shouldn’t but he can’t help remember when they were married and they fought like this all the time. It seems Clara thought that the end of the world would change something, that they wouldn’t go out screaming. It’s was a silly thing to think really.

Clara sighs, turns back to the cutting board, “I know that.”

Harry rolls her eyes at the dramatics, pours another ounce of gin into the shaker and ignores her.

~

Soft jazz music spills from the speakers. Warm bodies are swarming in and out of rooms. The party is quieter then John was led to believe. Clara had mentioned that it would be just a few close friends at the start then it was sure to hit its peak later.

“John,” he jumps at the sound of his name, his thoughts shattering, “this is Sally Donovan.” Clara is standing before him with an attractive woman. Her skin is a lovely shade of mocha? Caramel? He can’t decide. Her dark brown eyes draw his attention, they are frantic. There’s a look about her that says she’s searching for something she didn’t know she lost.

“Sally this is my brother-in-law John.” Sally extends a hand; 3 jeweled bracelets slide down her arm when she does so. That makes John take notice of what this woman is actually wearing.

Along with the 3 bracelets she also has on 2 diamond rings, a large white fur coat, underneath it all is a sapphire blue gown. But that’s none of that compares to the tiara that sits atop her head, hair pulled away from it so it shines like a beacon under the living lights.

“Um,” he stammers for a second, not quite sure what to say to this woman. “It’s lovely to meet you?”

It comes out more like a question then a statement. She doesn’t seem to notice; a shaky smile has appeared on her lips. There’s a pause of awkward silence before Sally starts to speak.

“The outfit?” She waves a hand over herself. “It’s everything I never got to wear.”

“Oh, it’s lovely. Shiny, but lovely.” A speck of nervous laughter comes from the women before him.

“You’re funny.”

The scent of desperation pours of her; Clara gives him a thumbs up.

It’s awkward again.

~

Dinner is a rather quiet affair. Yes, there are kids running about, screaming and throwing snappers at everyone and everything but the dinner is quiet.

They are going around the table telling each other what they are doing with their finally days. One couple is traveling around spending time with family members, going to see the husband’s family first before making the trek to visit the wife’s stepfathers place in Aspen.

“She wants to tell him to fuck off.” John never did catch the blokes name, but he knows the man said that Lacey was the woman.

“And also ski!” She adds cheerfully.

“Oh yes and also ski.”

“Awesome.” Clara quickly turns her attention to the woman sitting on Johns right. “Sally? What are your plans?”

“Oh I’m thinking about finally signing up for that pottery class. And well I’m going to eat whatever I want and not care.” She’s giggling now, the group joining her. “An maybe I’ll meet someone special to spend my time with.”

She gaze falls on John, it feels like it’s burning a hole right through his cheek.

“John, what about you?” Clara asks him quietly.

He’s not sure how to answer. He doesn’t even know what he’s doing here really, why did he show up? His sister and him had never been that close and he doesn’t even know the people that are around him now.

One of the kids sneaks behind his chair to set off the popper in his hands.

It startles the group and they forget John.

~

Hours later find John leaning against the doorway that separates the kitchen from the living room, a man he doesn’t know it hanging all over him.

The music Clara is blasting nearly drowns out the thoughts that are swirling around in his head.

Harry is somewhere behind him encouraging the children to drink, a choir of ‘Drink! Drink! Drink!’ can be heard coming from the kitchen. A girl, maybe 10, holds a martini to her lips. She tips her head back and lets the alcohol burn her throat.

Sally keeps swaying her hips. She wants him to dance with her, he politely declines.

There is two men wrestling each other at his feet, he knows one of them very well. The other remains a mystery as he retreats into the crowd after he is pinned down. The man he knows has a huge grin on his face as he staggers to his feet accepting a drink while he does it.

Suddenly he’s in Johns space.

“John.”

“Murray.” He nods his head towards the man, he can see a bit of carpet burn on his cheek.

“This almost makes me miss the war.”

“Almost?”

“Almost.”  They watch the party goers together for a minute, neither men knowing exactly what to say to the other. Finally, it’s Murray to break the silence.

“John! I’m going to miss you. Gonna miss you like hell…” A hard slap on the shoulder accompanies the statement.

“Oh shit! It’s fucking mental out there, ya know?”

“That so?” John isn’t sure what Murray means. He knows the party has gotten a bit out of hand, but people are just celebrating a life that they are losing, a life that is being stolen away from there. Mental might be the correct word, but it’s warranted.

“Single guys like us,” an elbow to the ribs claims a wince from John, “we got to grab this by the horns.” Murray takes a long drink from his cup, “Because it’s a different world now.”

Murray goes quiet again, drains his cup, grips Johns bicep, “It’s a different world.” He sounds terrified which John finds odd. This is a man who survived a war. This man saw the blood of his brothers soak into the sand beneath his feet. He’s the one that saved Johns life when he was shot in the shoulder. How could this situation be the thing that causes him fear? “We got to…ya know?

John doesn’t know, “Okay.” He can’t really think of anything else to say.

“You know?”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t?” Murray looks at him like he just sprouted another head, “The sky is falling. The Sky is falling and it’s raining fanny.” At least there’s a smile back on his face.

“John ever since that ship blew up I have had a different girl every night! They don’t fucking care! Fat, small dick or even related. They just don’t fucking care!”

John is amazing how fast the atmosphere has changed, how Murray went from brooding to declaring how much pussy he has been getting. Humans are funny like that he supposes. Seems like we can’t take anything serious for long, it’s nice to know that hasn’t changed.

“They don’t care about anything!” It seems that Murray hasn’t finished his declaration, “Anything! Getting pregnant or if you have any diseases or if you can provide for them! It’s like the apocalypse…”

John wants to correct, to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Wants to scream in his face, “It’s not like the fucking apocalypse! It is the fucking apocalypse!” Instead he stands there, Murrays arm around his shoulder, still leaning on the door frame.

Murray notices Sally staring at them, taps John and points, “Double team?”

Clara is shouting now, something about someone bringing heroin, and Murray is gone. Apparently it’s on his bucket list. John rest his head against the door frame while reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulls out the bottle of medicine and takes a swig.

He needs to escape.

~

The stairs barely make a sound when he steps on them, nothing like the ones at his place. The second floor seems pretty vacant as he makes his way up.  He turns left at the top and heads for the bathroom.

It’s cooler in the tile floored room, he hadn’t realized how pressing the heat was until he was no longer in the midst of it. He breathes a sigh of relief as he closes the door behind him. He just needs 5 minutes alone; he needs to be a way from people who have decided that this is a chance to get fucked up. He can’t blame them; he just can’t join them.

He can hear Harry outside lighting off fireworks with the kids as he steps into the tub and sits down. It feels like ice on his warmed skin.

Shutting his eyes, he drifts.

~

He couldn’t tell you how long he sits in that dry tub; he can’t tell you what he was thinking about. He can tell you that the knock didn’t scare him, he had been excepted an interruption sooner, it surprises him at most.

Clara is opening the door, a gently smile is set in place as she regards him.

“You hiding?”

“Yes.” What is the point in lying? Clara would probably be able to see through it anyway.

“You don’t have to do heroin if you don’t want to, sweetie.” She sets the glass of wine do she had been hold down on the counter top before moving a vase of fake flowers that had been placed on the wooden stool that rest next to the tub.

He’s watching every move she makes, trying to find his words, “Clara, I tried. But I can’t spend the last month of my life getting to know someone. That’s crazy.”

She takes a seat, “You didn’t like Sally?”

“I couldn’t give a fuck about her,” he shakes his head at her, this conversation is bullshit but there’s no getting away from it, “I’m not going sit there with a person and listen to all their stories, even if that someone was someone I could see myself with, I just can’t. I mean when you think about it the month between my wife walking out on me and the world ending isn’t really the best time for this. Do you?”

Suddenly she’s trying to kissing him. She’s trying to kissing him hard and he’s confused. Her hands are gripping the sides of his head and she’s trying to kissing him. She doesn’t seem to care that he’s not responding to her moving lips, she’s just trying to kissing him.

“What are you doing?” He moves his head back, away from her lips. He moves away from his sisters’ ex-wife…wife, “What are you doing?” Fuck he thought he had been safe from all this muck.

“What?” She’s backing off, confusion is leaking into her voice.

“What?”

“What?”

“You’re Harry’s.” He can hear the wonder in his own words, there is finalization there too. He can’t do this to Harry. Fuck, he doesn’t want to do this to Harry. Sure there was a time when he had been attracted to Clara, but that had passed. He had gotten over it and met Lottie, it had been fine.

A drunken smile comes to Clara’s face.

“No, I’m not,” she pauses, “Nobody’s anybody’s thing anymore.”

Even with confusion taking over he knows that’s not true.

She has the fucking nerve to pout.

“Your wife got to leave. She got to leave, why did she get to leave?” She pauses, “Why can’t I do what I want? Everyone else got to do what they wanted. Why not me?”

“I don’t know what I want.” It comes out in a whisper but that doesn’t make it any less true. He hasn’t known what he wanted for so long, long before this threat was upon them. Not knowing what he wants has just become his normal.

It’s shit.

Clara is smoothing her dress, then fusses with her hair. She’s standing and grabbing her glass, she won’t look at him.

“You can’t run from this, Johnny.” The bathroom door opens and her bare feet are taking out and down the hallway.

His eyes won’t focus. Run? No, there is no running from this. There is no hiding from this, this is coming whether they are ready or not. Good or bad judgement day is falling on them and it’s been decided that no one will be sparred.

He doesn’t remember moving, doesn’t remember running down the stairs or out the back door. But he’s hopping the low fence that runs along the property line and not stopping.

He’s going home.

~

The entry way is dark when he makes it back to his flat, 221-B is hushed. John doesn’t hang around to find out way, he doesn’t care. His upstairs neighbors are the reason he fled from the party.

The key is pushed roughly into the lock and the door swings open. He stands there in the dark for a moment, once he steps through he will be alone again.

The light is flicked on, jacket thrown over a kitchen table. The lamp in the living room makes a small clicking sound, the light is soft.

He turns on the TV next, doesn’t really pay attention to what the news is saying, he has something else on his mind, he makes his way to his closet. The light in this tiny room is connected to a string pull, it feels oddly satisfying to pull it downwards. The rack is full, there are still of his wife’s clothes hanging, he saw no point in throwing them away. What if she had come back? Right now though he doesn’t care about the cloth that hangs, he sets his sights on something that is resting on the shelf above all the hangers. It’s a small wooden box, he pulls it into his hands. Pulling the cord again he heads back to the living room.

Couch cushions mold around him as he takes a seat on his sofa, the box is placed on the coffee table directly in front of him. He doesn’t even hesitant before opening it.

The hinges squeak just a bit when the lid in flipped up, the scent of something he can’t recall hits him. His eyes begin to burn. He reaches in to retrieve the pictures that are pressed up against the front.

It’s of a blonde woman on a beach, a blonde headed boy is showing her something in his hand. There a shallow hole between them, the waves roll behind them and the sun is beating down on their shoulders. They are already getting red, sure to burn if they aren’t careful.

He wishes he had more pictures of his mother.

Flipping through a few he comes across one, it’s him and a blonde girl. They can’t be more then 19 in it. Christ, just looking at their smiles is making his cheeks hurt. Turning is on its back he reads the faded pen marks

_John and Mary 4-ever_

There’s tape on the sides, no stick left.

He turns it back over and stares at it for a few seconds, finally he sets it to rest against the open lid and reaches in for a smaller box with a dome lid.

He hasn’t held this in so long, almost forget what it felt like in his hand. These hinges don’t squeak; they can’t because he didn’t even open the box all the way, just slipped his fingers in and claimed it. Inside is something he thought he would never touch again, his harmonica.

Bringing it to his mouth he starts to play a song he heard once, maybe it had been on a trip or maybe it had been when he was walking home, passing by stores that had their doors open making it easy for the music from the radios inside to flow out into the wide world.

It doesn’t matter because he doesn’t play for long, not with the metal steps from his fire escape rattling against the bricks outside his window.

Someone is sitting there, hand covering their mouth, they are furious.

It’s tall and curly from upstairs.

He puts down his instrument and walks over to the window, bending at the waist he taps the glass with his knuckle.

“Hello?”

Curly paid him no mind, so what was John to do? He grasped the window and slid it open. His left eyebrow raises as he regards the younger man.

John can feel the tension pouring off of him, can see part of his cheek down into his mouth from where he has his teeth sunk into it. He’s entire being is shaking.

“You okay?” This causes a reaction for the young man, he jumps as his eyes quickly shift to John, it appears his angry is being refocused as well. He takes hold on the gray coat the is around his shoulders and draws it tighter around his thin frame. The glare he is sending Johns way could possibly kill a lesser man.

“Obviously I’m not.” His voice is deep, like a roll of thunder. John thinks that if he were to press his head to this man’s chest he would be able to feel is reverberate through his entire body. “How could I be so stupid?” Tone sharp as a knife, a bit hoarse from all the yelling that’s been going on, that doesn’t stop John from wanting to hear more.

“I don’t know,” John begins, “I know nothing about you.”

His response gains him an eye roll and a look that clearly says, ‘Idiot’. None of this changes the fact that John doesn’t want to leave this guy out on the fire escape all night.

“I’ll never see my family again,” The man says quietly, his voice may have wavered a bit but he was quick to cover it before he spoke again. “I missed all the planes, not a terrible thing but I’ve come to believe that being sad about something like this is a common response.” John wants to shrug. “Christ, end of the world and I’m still 15 minutes late.” A sigh leaves the curly haired man, a small puff of hot air.

“Being late doesn’t matter much anymore.”

“Yes well, I can just hear my mother saying ‘flaky and irresponsible. She does so long putting her 2 cents in everywhere.” He looks away from John then. “They will ask how could I do this? I put all my energy into the right places, some might say wrong but those who do are idiots.” He runs a long fingered hand through his hair, “I give my time to the wrong people.” His eyes briefly look towards the window above them before dropping back down.

“Do you want to come in?” His eyes find Johns again; he gives him a small nod.

“I won’t burn anything if you don’t try to have your way with me.” For some reason this gets a chuckle from John, he really is powerless against the smile that starts to form on his face when he moves back from the window.

“Agreed.”

This guy might as well be all legs since they seem to go on forever when they swing over the sill. He’s graceful, no stubbing as he places his leather encased feet on to Johns floor. The coat is still tightly wrapped around him, it’s stunning really. Long and full, if he chose to run while wearing it would dance in the wind. It has a red button hole on one of the lapels. John closes the window behind him.

“Sherlock.” He thrust a pale hand towards John, it gets taken instantly

“John.” Sherlock gives his hand one shake then drops it, he moves to take a sit on the couch. John follows.

“You’ve lived here 3 years, yet this is the first time we have spoken.”

“Yes?”

“Shame could have used a Doctors help on some of the cases that come my way.” John gasps, how was that possible. Had he given himself away somehow?

“How did you know I was a Doctor?”

“I Just left someone.” Sherlock has completely ignored his question, odd. But really he can’t say it’s odd because he doesn’t know Sherlock so this thing could be normal for him. Maybe later he will ask again, maybe once he finds out more about this man he can ask him all sorts of things.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Had to be done. He couldn’t see beyond the world ending and that allowed sentiment to cloud his judgement. Can’t have that.”

“Is that why you were occupying my fire escape?” Sherlock nods.

“He’s taking the night to get his stuff out. Besides I much prefer sleeping on a fire escape then having pity sex.” John makes a noise in the back of his throat and turns his eyes towards the ground for a moment. He hears a slightly clicking and sees Sherlock taking a long pull from the medicine bottle he had left on the table.

“You can’t just drink that.” But John isn’t stopping him, doesn’t snatch it from his hands.

“I’m told I can’t do a lot of thing, but drinking this? I can do that.” He puts the cap back on and twist it closed.

“You don’t even know what it was.”

“Cough syrup with codeine. I was use all those big words I know for a real name, but I can’t be arsed right now.” He reaches behind his ear and pulls out what looks like a cigarette. Next he starts searching through the pockets of his coat until he finds the lighter he was looking for. Without evening ask John if it’s alright he lights the thin smoke dangling from his lips and takes a long drag. He offered it to John who shook his head.

“Who’s the girl?” He gestured with the cig in his hand

“Do you really care who she is?”

“Not really, but I’m bored so I’m asking.” John smirked

“That would be Mary.”

“One that got away?”  John gave a little laugh, a smirk of his own came to his lips.

“They all got away, she was just the first.”

“I see. Well are you going to get her back? End of the world seems like the best excuse for that to happen.” Sherlock takes another drag and then flicked some of the ash onto Johns floor.

“No, I’m positive she has enough going on. You know end of the world and all.” A small chuckle came from the man next time, it was rich and deep.

Sherlock turned away then, grabbed he remote and turned on the television. John didn’t even pay attention to what was on, he just watched Sherlock get comfortable. Legs coming up, an arm around them, smoke still burning away.

They lapsed into silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I add a bit but there are many lines from the actually movie, scenes too. I reason is because I find this movie brilliant and beautifully written. Plus the whole point of this fic was to put John and Sherlock in place of the main characters.

**Author's Note:**

> I might be adding more tags as I go. Also I think I will be needed to add more characters, but we'll cross that path when we get there.


End file.
